A mountain looms and threatens to bury
The coffee table that serves as my desk
Under enough homework to make me want
To pull out all my hair, a thing more lousy
Than getting bitten by the ancient Basilisk,
That serpent slain by warriors gallant.
My Latin book lies on the cluttered floor
Surrounded by my Lordship Calvin notes
And paper research books are cuddled with
My mathematics books and notes galore
That wait for me to learn their lines by rote
While I attempt to craft words like a smith.
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